


You Don't Need Me To Tell You That You're A Good Boy

by AdamantSteve



Series: The Polaroid 'Verse [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Daddykink, M/M, Sugardaddy, clingy clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:52:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have sex <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Need Me To Tell You That You're A Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbetaed. Originally this was much longer, and was a different version of them going shopping together. No idea why I wrote that twice.

“Daddy,” Clint sighs once they reach Phil’s apartment, the door barely closed before he pushes in close and backs himself against the door, pulling Phil with him so he’s bracketed in. Clint’s eyes are big and blue and the most sinful mixture of innocence and lust. “Are you gonna fuck me?” 

 

Phil shivers even as he finds Clint’s hands and pushes them up above Clint’s head, holding them right there before kissing that perfect mouth. Clint sighs happily and just melts against him, lips opening and tongue eagerly giving as good as it gets in response to Phil’s as it presses in. Phil presses his whole body against Clint’s and is surprised to find him already so hard. He has to pull away and look down, check that it’s not, what? A gun? 

 

Clint leans forward and nips at Phil’s lips, and Phil laughs. “Sorry,” he says, looking back to Clint’s face and absolutely having to kiss him some more. “Tell me what you want,” he says after long minutes of needy, delicious kissing. 

 

Clint whines in the back of his throat before Phil pulls away enough to let him answer. “You like it when I call you ‘Daddy’ don’t you?” 

Phil moans and cocks an eyebrow. As if he needs to answer. Clint looks uncertain though, so he nods. It feels weird to say out loud, but he does it anyway. “I love it.” 

 

“Take me to bed,” Clint says, eyes fixed on Phil’s mouth. They flick up for a second to meet Phil’s and his pupils are dark and wide. “And fuck me.” He licks his lips before adding in a whisper: “and tell me I’m your good boy.” 

Phil lets go of Clint’s hands to tip his chin up with a finger. Clint looks strangely guilty, so Phil shakes his head. “You are a good boy,” he says, waiting for a minute nod from Clint before softly kissing his lips.

 

As soon as Phil lets up, Clint starts taking his clothes off like they’re burning him, tossing them this way and that on the way to the bedroom. Phil watches, because what else can he do? Clint’s beautiful to watch even when he has one leg stuck in his pants and a shirt that’s still dangling from one arm. Clint gets his pants off and frowns at him. “What?” 

“You’re beautiful is all.” 

Clint rolls his eyes and gets to pulling his socks off, as if Phil’s being ridiculous. 

“You are,” he insists.

“Are you just gonna watch or are you gonna get involved?” 

“Can’t I do both?” 

Clint straightens up, naked now but for a pair of underpants hugging his hard cock against his body. Phil can feel his mouth watering over the telltale length hidden beneath them. Clint slips his thumbs beneath the waistband. “Are you saying you want a show, Daddy?” 

 

Phil swallows and unbuttons his jacket. That word coming out of Clint’s mouth… it does something to him which he can’t even begin to define. He’s had other lovers say it, said it himself once or twice a long time ago, but with Clint it’s different. It touches some raw nerve inside him and makes him light up like nothing else. 

 

He means to be gentle, but one moment they’re standing six feet away from each other and the next, Clint’s on his back on the bed and Phil’s pressed on top of him, still fully dressed. They kind of rut against each other like they have no idea what to do before Phil can speak again, very quietly and very precisely. 

 

“I want you to open yourself up for me. There’s lube in the drawer. But you have to go slow, ok? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Clint grins with the brightness of a thousand suns, but Phil stays as stern as he can manage. “Can you do that for me, Clint? You gonna be a good boy?” 

 

“‘m always a good boy,” he says, wriggling. Phil kisses him again before getting up, and feels Clint’s eyes on him like lazers as he slowly undresses. Clint watches so intensely, but Phil doesn’t feel self conscious, too distracted by the sight of Clint’s fingers working their way into his body, the shine of lube on his skin and the pink flush down his perfect chest. 

 

By the time Phil slides into Clint, warm and tight, they’re both so keyed up Phil’s sure he’ll say something embarrassing, like ‘stay here forever!’ or ‘please don’t leave’, so he distracts himself with kisses, working his way up and down both sides of Clint’s neck whenever Clint’s lips are too busy alternating between ‘Daddy’ and ‘please’. 

 

Clint wraps his legs around Phil’s waist and keeps him close, and Phil imagines all those muscles being used for just that - for the sole purpose of keeping him right here in Clint’s arms, giving Clint what he’s busy declaring is his god-given right. He worries that Clint’s too busy holding onto him, that his own orgasm might be forgotten in this epic quest for Phil’s, but when Phil starts truly losing it, going “you’re perfect, perfect, perfect, my perfect boy” Clint clings extra hard and Phil feels it when he comes between their bodies.

 

Phil comes moments later, filling the condom and then staying put, cause Clint seems to have decided never to move again, satisfied with Phil being right there inside him. 

 

“You ok?” Phil asks eventually, and Clint answers with a slow, contented hum. “Mind if I get up? I promise I’ll come right back.” 

Clint hums again, though less happily this time. Phil is as quick as he can be in the bathroom, coming back with a wet cloth to wipe Clint’s belly of all that lube and the cum that didn’t get rubbed over Phil’s belly when Clint came. Clint’s apparently ticklish during his post-sex glow, but Phil doesn’t take too much advantage of it, being as careful as he can be as he gets Clint all cleaned up. 

 

“You’re so sweet,” Phil murmurs when he slips into bed beside Clint, pulling up the sheets with him. He kisses the curve of Clint’s ear. “My good boy.” 

Clint’s already on the edge of sleep it seems, humming softly in reply. He threads his fingers between Phil’s and hugs his arm around him, keeping Phil right where he wants him. Phil’s convinced he’ll be wrapped around Clint pretty helplessly all too soon, but finds it hard to remember why he was ever resisting in the first place. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
